


The After

by nhasablog



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Post Season 3, Stranger Things Spoilers, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: After leaving Hawkins, Jonathan decides it's his job to take care of them all.Season 3 spoilers.





	The After

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 made me want to write this new dynamic. I hope you like it! Warning for spoilers, obviously.

The drive away from Hawkins wasn’t silent. None of them talked, but the small things that  _ did  _ make sounds occupied the entirety of the car, until Jonathan felt like he didn’t fit anymore. El’s deep breaths, Will occasionally sniffling, the fucking car keys dangling from the ignition, and Nancy’s goodbye ringing in Jonathan’s ears. He felt bad for the others. If he hadn’t been driving he would’ve gone insane ages ago.

He glanced to the side. Will had his head turned away from him, as if contact would burn him. All around them, endless trees, a blur of yellow that couldn’t have been that interesting to look at to begin with. Will, entirely still except for his hands continuously wringing the hem of his t-shirt, was most likely aware of Jonathan’s gaze on him and yet did not acknowledge it.

He caught El’s eye in the rearview mirror, but only for a second before she averted hers. She stared at her lap for a beat, two, and then out the window like Will.

Jonathan turned back to the road, cleared his throat, but no words fell out of it. He had nothing. He’d run dry. He couldn’t fix this for any of them.

What a fucking mess.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Will suddenly said, breaking the spell. “Or the woods. Whatever works.”

Jonathan pulled into a gas station only a couple of minutes after, Will slamming the door with slightly too much force as he exited. Jonathan caught El’s eye in the mirror again. “You need to go too?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You sure?”

She cracked a smile. Out of all of them, she was somehow still the one able to smile. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need to?”

“What?”

“Go?”

“Oh. No, I’m good.”

Her smile grew. “You sure?”

He let out a laugh, turning back to grin at her. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

Will was quick, and they caught up with Joyce in no time. She’d probably not even realized they’d stopped, which was good. Jonathan was sick of worrying her.

The first day at the new house, too many hours away to visit Hawkins regularly, was chaotic. Furniture being moved around, giving out bedrooms, trying to fit everything in a space they didn’t know. Trying to make it familiar, with a whole new family member being present. Maybe it was a good thing that El became a part of them here. She wouldn’t have to feel like an intruder when none of them knew the sounds this house made anyway.

“Of course you’ll all have your own rooms,” Joyce was saying, an edge to her voice.

“But where will you sleep?” El insisted.

“The closet fits my bed just fine. We don’t own  _ that _ many clothes anyway.”

El turned to Will, as if looking for assistance. Jonathan was glad his mother was pushing for this, though. He couldn’t imagine having to share his room and having to put up a front all the time, as selfish as it sounded.

“You’re all too old to share a room with a family member,” Joyce continued when Will made a move to speak. “I don’t want to make this worse than it is, okay?”

Jonathan shut himself in his new bedroom as soon as he could, feeling like a pre-teen again. They hadn’t fixed up the phone yet, so he couldn’t call Nancy, as much as he wanted to. He was aware that it was a bit sad that El and Will missed more than one person, but Jonathan had never been much for friends anyway.

He sat on his old bed, looking at the new walls. They were white. Bare. Standard in a new home, but the texture was all wrong, and the position of the window was all wrong, and no matter how hard he’d tried he couldn’t replicate his old space and it was all  _ wrong _ .

Jesus. He was literally acting like a 12-year-old.

He knocked on Will’s door. “Buddy, can I come in?”

He heard a mumble, and then Will opened the door for him, not even waiting to hear what he wanted before he was walking back toward the bed and allowing Jonathan to enter on his own.

The room looked sad. Possibly because Will got rid of so many of his things during the move, but even the couple of posters on the walls didn’t manage to make it feel like a home. But maybe he was being dramatic.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a seat beside him.

Will shrugged. “I’m all right, I guess.”

“You need help unpacking anything?”

“I’m good.”

“All right.” He leaned back, resting his body on his elbows. “Your bed is so squeaky.”

Will huffed out a laugh. “I should’ve asked for a new one while I had the chance.”

“Too late now,” Jonathan said, reaching out to poke his back. “Oh, hey, I’d almost forgotten how ticklish you were,” he said when his brother jerked away.

Will shoved at him. “Shut up.”

Had the circumstances been different Jonathan would’ve launched a proper tickle fight, but he had a feeling Will wouldn’t appreciate it right now.

“You know you can talk to me, right? If things seem terrible.”

Will nodded. “I know.”

Jonathan poked him again. “At least you’ve got Eleven.”

Eleven. They both realized it simultaneously. As awful as things seemed for them, it was probably worse for her.

* * *

Jonathan hadn’t spoken much to El, despite her having dated his girlfriend’s brother for a while. He was happy to see that she felt comfortable around them all, especially Joyce, but he was aware of the fact that, if El would pretend to be fine to anyone, it would be to their mother. She wouldn’t want Joyce to feel any worse than she already did. El was a lot like Will in that aspect.

Jonathan frankly had no idea of how to approach her naturally, so he let the knowledge that they now lived together be the main reason. “Hey.”

She looked up from her bowl of semi untouched cereal. “Hi.”

“You mind if I join you?”

“No.”

He took a seat across from her, the table small and old and quite honestly falling apart. They smiled at each other, a bit awkwardly, but it felt genuine. They were in a tricky situation, what with suddenly being siblings, sort of. Jonathan had always wanted more siblings. A sister. And he reckoned El having more people to care for her wouldn’t hurt.

“Will and I are thinking of exploring the area today,” he said, realizing too late that this would’ve felt more casual had he gotten some breakfast of his own to eat. “Wanna join?”

That was the start. Her nod, her insisting Joyce came with, and pretty much a whole day of walking around and talking as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was the first step to things feeling more okay, but he definitely knew that was the start of their growing relationship. Or at least he hoped so.

The three of them started reading comics together. Playing games, sometimes with Joyce joining in. They still hadn’t really talked about everything, but Jonathan knew that they probably needed the distraction more than the therapy right now. They needed the bad jokes, the nights spent cooking, movies, trips down memory lane, trips to the store, the laughter. Will had started laughing again too.

Joyce, not yet.

One thing at a time.

They were in Will’s room, the three of them. They’d started gathering almost every evening, not really doing much, but needing the company as the sun started setting earlier and earlier. Will was leaning against the headboard, and Jonathan was leaning into him, mostly because he enjoyed the way his brother was laughing as he tried to shove him away.

“You’re heavy,” he whined, El watching them both act like fools from the foot of the bed.

“Oh, excuse me. I didn’t come here to be offended.” He emphasized his point by lightly pushing Will away with his shoulder, making him laugh even harder. “Why are you laughing, huh?”

“I’ve never seen you like this,” El suddenly said. She was grinning when Jonathan looked at her. “Either of you.”

“This tends to only happen behind closed doors,” he said, sitting upright to give Will more space again. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends.”

Will rolled his eyes. “More like you don’t want to act like an idiot in front of Nancy.”

“Nancy knows every side of me, trust me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

Will flashed him a grin. When did that kid get so cocky? “She hasn’t dumped you yet.”

“All right, you know what?”

Will’s giggles came easily the moment Jonathan’s fingers found his ribs, but the laughter was deeper, the flailing limbs longer. He almost got elbowed in the face two seconds in, but he reckoned he would’ve had it coming.

“Stop!” Will cried, nearly falling off the bed had Jonathan not grabbed his arm. “Come on, don’t be mean!”

“Because you were being an angel just now.”

“I’m sorry!”

They were finally okay to do this. Jonathan hadn’t realized how long it had been.

“El, do you know about tickling?” he asked, glancing at her for long enough to see her nod.

“Hopper,” was all she said. Jonathan couldn’t really picture that man being playful, but maybe he was being unfair. He hadn’t known Hopper like that, after all.

“Good, that means I can do this without alarming you.”

It was only a quick squeeze to her knee and a couple of pokes to her belly. More he didn’t dare do, but she was laughing nevertheless, hands raised as if ready to fend him off. Will, sweet Will, was still giggling beside him.

* * *

There were bad days too. Days where Jonathan wanted nothing more than to talk to Nancy for hours and hours, but then Will needed the phone, or El, or their mother, and Jonathan wanted to throw a temper tantrum because he hadn’t held Nancy in his arms in  _ weeks _ and they were depriving him of his sole comfort.

But then he realized it was the same for them. And he also realized that Hopper was gone, so El - and his mother, for that matter - had more to be angry over. Had more to mourn.

He caught Eleven in one of those moments, when the tears kept streaming down her cheeks and seemed to never stop. They were home alone, Jonathan returning to a seemingly empty house and finding El in her room, the door open. She was holding that piece of paper again. The one they’d jokingly started calling the script. Hopper’s words sloppily written down, unaware of what they would come to mean. Jonathan hadn’t read the whole thing, but El was compensating for it by reading it over and over.

He didn’t say anything as he entered. El moved over to make space for him on the bed, wiping and wiping at her face as if she didn’t want him to see, but there was no use.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “It’s okay.”

They sat in silence, El’s sniffling occasionally breaking it, and Jonathan was reminded of that car ride all those weeks ago. He wasn’t foolish enough to think things would ever feel entirely okay for her, and he wondered how many times she’d cried without anyone consoling her.

“You know what helped us when Will went missing?”

She wiped at her face again. ”What?”

“Looking at his things. Remembering the good times.”

El had a box of Hopper’s stuff. Of the things she’d decided to keep. Jonathan had seen his mother look at them from time to time, when El hadn’t been in. They made her cry, but it also seemed to bring her peace.

Joyce and Will found them on the floor a while later, Hopper’s things spread out around them as El told story after story about each item. Joyce put the groceries down and joined, adding facts and stories that El hadn’t known, the two of them crying and laughing simultaneously.

Jonathan watched Will linger in the doorway and reached out a hand toward him. He entered, sat down, leaned into his brother, and listened.


End file.
